Take Me

by Anna Zaires, Pepper Winters, Skye Warren, Lynda Chance, Pam Godwin, Amber Lin

  I pressed my head back against the pillow and lifted my hips to writhe against his talented hand. I was so close. I opened my eyes to watch him and his eyes were locked on mine.

  He brought his middle finger to his open mouth, and wetted it with a suckling motion. Then he gently eased his long finger inside me while continuing to work over me over with his other hand. The dual sensations were too much. I bucked my hips off the bed, matching his pace to grind against him. My moans got louder and less controlled. “Logan,” I called out.

  “Shh. I’ve got you, baby.” He continued sliding his finger in and out, his pace quickening just slightly as I got closer. He kissed my lips and breathed against my mouth as I came. I called out his name again and again until the last of my orgasm rocked through me.

  A few moments later, I opened my eyes to see him still watching me. My cheeks were flushed and my breathing still ragged, but I didn’t care how I looked just then, I only wanted to touch him, to make him feel the same way, to watch him come apart.

  I sat up and reached for his waistband, working to unbutton his jeans.

  “No. Just sleep now, sweetheart.” He eased my shoulders back against the bed and then adjusted his erection.

  I whimpered in protest, but he kissed me once again, silencing my plea.

  My eyes drifted closed and I savored his kiss.

  “Just rest.”

  I wanted to argue, but suddenly the bed felt too good and sleep was too close. The combined effects of the alcohol and my orgasm had left me spent. I closed my eyes and in a heartbeat the world vanished, replaced by darkness.

  Chapter Five

  I started awake at a thumping sound in the pitch black of my bedroom. My first thought was who the hell was knocking on my door at this hour, until I remembered Logan was sleeping in the other room.

  I rose from bed and stepped across the creaky wood floors down the hall. I could see Logan crumpled on the living room floor, pounding his fists on the ground.

  I sank down on the ground next to him and ran my hands up and down his back. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

  He responded to my presence by gripping my hand. His knuckles were red and swollen from where he had punched the floor. He looked up at me with the most pained expression I had ever seen and my heart cinched in my chest.

  “I don’t want to be alone,” he murmured, bringing my hand to his lips. “Come here.”

  I curled up on my side, tucking myself into his body. He snuggled me into me like his life depended on it, clinging to me for safety. He rubbed his cheek against the top of my head, smoothing my hair down before he settled in and found a comfortable spot. Soon his breathing became deep and steady and I knew he had drifted off to sleep. I was glad my presence seemed to comfort him.

  I pulled a throw blanket from the couch to cover us both and closed my eyes, concentrating on his deep, steady breaths.

  At dawn the light woke us up. Well, it was either that or the aches and pains of lying on a wood floor. I rolled to my side and rubbed my aching hip.

  “You didn’t have to stay with me last night.” Logan’s voice was thick with sleep, and even deeper than normal. I liked it. I liked that he could let his guard down with me.

  “I wanted to.” I felt a sort of responsibility toward Logan. I wanted to be the one to be there for him and help him through all of this.

  Without another word, he lifted me from the floor and carried me to my room, placing me carefully in the center of my mattress. He offered a small sleepy smile while still standing beside the bed.

  “Stay.” I reached a hand out toward him. He looked curiously at my hand, and then at me. A moment later, he accepted my invitation. I’d been there for him last night, and now he was choosing to get closer to me, to provide me with the comfort I associated with being near him. He lay next to me and pulled me in close, holding me against his chest.

  Later that morning, I woke for a second time and I crept out of bed, not wanting to wake Logan. He lay sprawled across my bed, still wearing his jeans. I admired him for a second, silently reading the words tattooed on his side. Aut viam inveniam aut faciam tibi. I tiptoed out of the room and sat down at the cluttered dining room table, locating my laptop under a stack of papers.

  I checked my email, discovering I had two emails from Professor Clancy. The first was sent yesterday afternoon informing me that all charges against Logan had been dropped due to lack of evidence, and the possibility that the murder was committed in self-defense, and that Logan had signed himself out against the doctor’s orders last night. His last line was a warning about how he and Dr. Andrews were worried that Logan might come looking for me, since he seemed to be fixated on me. A chill danced up my spine.

  Clancy’s second email was detailed feedback on my thesis, which apparently needed a lot more work. Yikes. The track changes function was in full effect, splashes of red covering nearly every inch of most of the pages. This was going to require a lot of coffee.

  “That smells good.” Logan ventured into the kitchen behind me, running one hand over his hair in an attempt to smooth it down. He looked adorable first thing in the morning, sleepy-eyed and still incredibly sexy. Unfortunately, he shrugged his T-shirt on over his head, blocking my view of the delicious six-pack he sported.

  I arranged two mugs on the counter and poured coffee into each. “How do you take your coffee?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “No clue. Surprise me.”

  I laughed and added a splash of the steamed milk to each of our mugs, thankful that the elephant in the room—him getting me off last night—seemed to fade into the background. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “Yeah, that park bench set a pretty high bar.” He chuckled. “Thank you for bringing me here. It was more than I could have expected. Thank you.” He took a sip of his coffee. “This is good.”

  I smiled and sipped my own. “I’m glad you like it. I slept like a baby.” I shifted uncomfortably, remembering my wanton behavior last night. Crap. Shut up, Ashlyn.

  He smirked. “About what happened last night…” He ran a hand over his hair, hesitating to continue. I thought he’d offer some explanation for why he hadn’t allowed me to touch him, to make me feel better about being such a hussy. “That can’t happen again. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I can’t put you in a compromising position. Dr. Andrews and your Professor were right and I won’t do that to you. I don’t want this,” he motioned between us, “to discredit your research on amnesia.”

  I cleared my throat, and set down my coffee mug, hoping he wouldn’t notice my shaking hands. “Of course. I was drunk and feeling sorry for myself. That won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. That was my fault as much as it was yours. I shouldn’t have done that.” After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he set down his coffee mug, and stood. “I guess I should get out of your way, then. I’m sure you have a lot to do.”

  “Logan. Please, you don’t have to go.”

  “I won’t take advantage of you, Ashlyn.”

  I gripped his hand. “Isn’t that what I did to you last night?” I smiled, hoping to ease the tension between us.

  He grinned. “That was different. I didn’t mind that at all.”

  Interesting… “I don’t mind you being here either. I’d like for you to stay.”

  His eyes held mine, considering the offer.

  “I have a lot more work on my thesis, according to Clancy, and if you stayed here, I’d have access to ask you questions and interview you if I needed to.” It sounded halfway plausible, but truly I just didn’t want to think about where he would go if he wasn’t here.

  “I suppose I could stay for a little while, just while you’re working on your paper. If I get to be any trouble, just say the word, and I’ll go.”

  I nodded eagerly. Like that would happen. “Great. I’m glad that’s settled. Now…for breakfast…”

  He sucked in a deep breath, like there was still som
ething that didn’t satisfy him. “Ashlyn…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t have any money, no job. Fuck, I don’t even have a change of clothes. I can’t take advantage of you like this. Your generosity is too much.”

  “Logan, it will be okay. We’ll get you what you need and when you get a job you can pay me back if it makes you feel better.”

  He took a deep breath. “Yes, I guess that will have to work.”

  Logan refused breakfast, saying coffee was fine, and after a quick shower, he wanted to get out looking for work. I didn’t point out that it was Sunday and he might not have much luck. He seemed eager to get out of the tiny apartment and do something productive with himself. Which was fine, since I owed Liz a phone call this morning, and I didn’t want Logan to hear me lie about coming home alone last night.

  I showed him the hallway linen closet where I kept the spare towels and told him he was free to use anything he wanted. I brought him into the bathroom to warn him about my rickety shower facet and how to not be inadvertently scalded.

  Logan stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, and stood there seemingly mesmerized.

  I stood behind him, watching as he inspected himself in the mirror. He brought his fingertips to his face, running his hand along the stubble on his jaw, tracing the line of his nose, then tilted his head to the side to see his profile. I couldn’t imagine how strange it would be to not recognize your own reflection in the mirror. Things I took for granted every day, Logan was relearning.

  Chapter Six

  When Logan returned from an unsuccessful job search, I was only halfway through grading the essays from Clancy’s graduate level psych class. He peeked around into the dining room, and asked where I kept the cleaning supplies. I showed him my pitiful collection consisting of a few random spray bottles underneath the kitchen sink. He systematically pulled each bottle from the cabinet and inspected every one.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “I’m going to clean the apartment. You can keep studying.”

  “Logan, you don’t have to do that.”

  “It makes me feel useful. Like there’s still something I know how to do, some way that I can contribute.”

  Oh. “Thank you. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated.” I’d lived alone for a few years now, and cleaning up after myself was usually limited to the bare minimum. Still it was a far cry from how I grew up. Overflowing ashtrays and beer can pyramids had been my dad’s basic style of décor. “I know I won’t be winning any awards for my housekeeping anytime soon; I just hope you don’t find me disgusting.”

  He laughed. “I could never find you disgusting, Ashlyn.”

  I remembered from my research that as someone with amnesia began recovering, they looked for ways to feel productive and useful. I smiled at the thought of Logan progressing into this stage.

  I dug out my extra key from the junk drawer and pressed it into his palm. “So you can come and go as you please.” Then I handed him a one-hundred-dollar bill. “And so you can get some of the things you might need, clothes, stuff like that. Sorry I can’t give you more.”

  “No, this is…” He shook his head. “Very kind of you.” We stood in the kitchen, just a foot apart, smiling at each other. “What would I do if you hadn’t come into my hospital room?”

  “It’s nothing, really. I enjoy having you here.”

  After he cleaned the kitchen and bathroom from top to bottom, he dusted and vacuumed the entire apartment. Then I heard him banging around in the kitchen and since I was mentally unable to read another half-witted paper on theories of personality, I went to see what he was up to.

  He was preparing to drop a handful of dry pasta into a pot of vigorously boiling water, but paused to smile at me. “I hope spaghetti will be okay. That’s about all I could find in the cabinets.”

  “That’s perfect, thank you.” I stretched my arms over my head, realizing it was already early evening. A small saucepan of tomato sauce simmered on one of the other burners, and the rich smell of tomatoes, garlic and basil teased my senses. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had cooked for me.

  “Sit down.” Logan led me back into the dining room. “Let me get you a glass of wine.”

  We ate at my newly cleared-off dining room table, the top of which I hadn’t seen in months. The meal was delicious and after dinner neither of us was quite ready to move away from the table, so we stayed sharing the bottle of merlot.

  “I was thinking more about your tattoo,” I said, swirling the crimson liquid in my glass.

  He rubbed the name on his bicep. “Logan or the Latin phrase?”

  “The one in Latin, it’s something an intellectual would get. Not everyone would think to get a dead language permanently inked on their body.”

  “Good point. What do you think it means?”

  “That you’re smart. Probably college educated.”

  He nodded thoughtfully; liking the direction I was headed.

  “I was thinking you could take some tests online, like an IQ test, or a college placement exam. It wouldn’t prove anything; it’d just give us a bit more information about you.”

  “Yeah, I like that idea.”

  After dinner, we settled on the couch and turned on the TV. I didn’t have cable, and only got a few channels, so I opted for Jeopardy.

  The category was History of the 1200s, and I was just about to change the channel when Logan leaned forward in rapt attention.

  The host read the answer, “He was the Italian philosopher and priest who died in 1274.”

  “Who was Thomas Aquinas,” Logan responded without hesitation.

  When the host announced that Thomas Aquinas was indeed the correct answer both of our jaws dropped open. “You knew that.”

  He nodded, his pulse racing in his neck. “How did I know that?”

  “I don’t know. You’re good with history?”

  He held up his hand. “Wait, he’s reading the next question.” We turned our attention back to the show, and Logan answered each of the questions in that category correctly. By the time he was done, he was up on his feet, pacing the room.

  “Okay, that can’t be a coincidence, can it?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so. I couldn’t have answered any of those questions. I think you’ve studied history pretty extensively.”

  “History. Latin.” He rubbed his temples. “Fuck,” he cursed loudly. “I don’t understand.”

  I stood and crossed the room to him. “It’s okay. This is a great start. Think of what we’ve discovered in just the last ten minutes. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

  He released a sigh and pulled me into his arms.

  I nestled my head against his chest, loving the feeling of his arms around me, and his masculine scent. He seemed to crave the closeness, even if it did scare him.

  “Thank you, Ashlyn.”

  “For what?”

  “For believing in me. For trusting me. I know I don’t deserve it, this tenderness from you, but damn if I don’t like it all the same.”

  I couldn’t explain why I trusted him so explicitly. Maybe it was the tattoo we shared, or the way I felt when I was near him. It was like I was meant to find him. But I didn’t explain any of that to him. “You’re welcome,” I murmured into his chest instead.

  I left early on Monday morning, after a pleasant weekend with Logan. I packed up my laptop and notebooks for a long day of grading papers for Clancy’s graduate classes, administering office hours and, of course, more endless research work for my thesis since Professor Clancy had pointed out that I needed to strengthen my strategy for the sources I planned to cite.

  When I returned to the apartment, exhausted and starving, it was after dark and I secretly hoped that Logan had cooked dinner again. Sadly, when I opened the apartment door, it was dark and empty inside.

  I flipped on the lights and checked the table for a note. Nothing. I was curious where Logan had gone, and sinc
e he didn’t have any belongings to leave behind, I had no way of knowing if he was gone for good. The thought was unnerving.

  I grabbed the Chinese take-out menu from the drawer beside the fridge, and called in an order for us both.

  A few minutes later, the door opened and Logan strode inside, filthy from head to toe, but looking pleased.

  I was on my feet in seconds. “Where’ve you been?”

  “I got a job on a construction site. I’m helping to roof a building down the road.”

  “That’s awesome, Logan.” I playfully nudged his hip with mine. “I was worried, though. Leave me a note next time, okay?”

  “Sure.” He studied me with guarded eyes. Despite trying to keep our arrangement casual, I knew I was developing feelings for him.

  “Dinner will be here in a few minutes if you want to take a shower.”

  He looked down at himself in his now grungy T-shirt and jeans. “Yeah, a shower would be great. The thing is I meant to pick up some extra clothes today, but I didn’t expect to get hired so quickly, so I actually didn’t have time.”

  “Are you saying you don’t have anything else to put on?”

  “Yeah.”

  My mind delved straight into the gutter with delight. “I have some T-shirts that might fit, and I might be able to scrounge up a pair of sweats or something too.”

  “Thanks, Ashlyn.” He crossed the kitchen and planted a quick kiss on my temple before heading for the bathroom.

  His unexpected affection, along with his musky scent from the day spent working outside left me briefly stunned. “Leave your clothes outside the door and I’ll throw them in the wash,” I called to his retreating backside.

  I heard him chuckle and stood there smiling like an idiot. We’d fallen almost too easily into a routine together, and I couldn’t help but wonder what might be next. I knew for certain I didn’t relish the idea of sleeping alone in my bed again tonight and wondering if Logan was okay out on the couch. I pushed the stray thoughts of Logan from my mind and went back to work.